Image of the Week: Esopus Creek, Autumn

© D. Yael Bernhard

Earlier this year I was commissioned to do this painting of a particular stretch of the Esopus Creek, the main tributary of the Hudson River that brings water down from the Catskill Mountains.  My clients were a couple who have a summer home near the creek.  The house once belonged to the man's grandfather, and he has been fishing on this stretch of water since he was a boy.  I suggested we wait for autumn so I could bring the colors of fall foliage into the scene, and they agreed.

Hunting and fishing have something in common with landscape painting: you become very still, waiting for the fish to take the bait, watching for the deer to walk near your stand, or patiently rendering shapes, textures and colors – while time slips by, and the sound of the current surrounds and soothes you.  You become part of the forest, the river, the wind in the trees, until you feel like a single thread drawn into a great tapestry.  You might even disappear into the landscape and wonder later how the painting created itself, how the fishing line cast itself, or how the bow drew itself back.  You become intimately familiar with your surroundings, and never forget that particular spot.  So it was with this special place by the river where I was blessed to spend several hours of my life.

I brought my 30"x24" canvas and box of acrylic paints down to the river several times to paint this image. The photo to the left shows the very first sitting. What a glorious day it was!  In between these sittings, I stuck a paint brush in the pebble beach to mark the exact spot where I sat.  When I returned, the paint brush was still there.  I wondered if anyone else had seen my private marker.  I decided to leave the paint brush there when I was all done.  The following week, torrential rains raised the Esopus to the point of flooding its banks.  The pebble beach is now slightly altered, and my paint brush is surely far, far downstream – maybe in the Hudson River, or even the Atlantic Ocean.

In his book Siddhartha, Hermann Hesse uses a river as a symbol of impermanence and a source of enlightenment for his young protagonist.  Sitting by the river for hours, I could understand why.  Gazing upstream, I felt each moment flow toward me and pass away.  The river was a myriad of voices mingling together as individual rivulets tripped over rocks.  These watery forms were the most challenging to articulate.  Water in motion is notoriously difficult.  I had to freeze it in a photograph and finish it at home.  As you can see, the major force of the current is to the left, while the waters along the righthand bank are much calmer.  No doubt this is an important observation for an angler.  I imagined my client would read the river like a book in ways that I couldn't even begin to understand.  The shadow of a rock could be a hiding place for trout.  Shallower waters would harbor insects and macroinvertebrates that attract fish, which in turn attract birds, including kingfishers, great blue herons, and bald eagles.      

It's easy to overwork this kind of subject.  An artist can easily go on rendering the sky, the trees, and the water too long.  Only with experience does one know when to stop. Several friends saw this painting in progress, as I left it out in my living room for observation for several weeks.  Walking past it during the course of my day, my peripheral perceptions enabled me to notice something new.  My friends thought the painting was done, but I knew it wasn't.  

Until it was.  The painting told me so.  

Esopus Creek, Autumn now hangs in my clients' winter home in the suburbs of New York City.  I like that it's there to remind them of their treasured time in the Catskills.  Paintings capture memories and moments that flow through our minds like a river.  Even as an image remains the same, it reminds us of how we change.

A good week to all!

D Yael Bernhard
http://dyaelbernhard.com
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